What do you say to taking chances?

"If you are never scared, embarrassed, or hurt, it means you never take chances."

This post is going to be an examination of what it means to take a chance. There are all kinds of quotations out there about taking chances. The one starting this post is my personal favorite, but here are some others...

"Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. "

~ Cadet Maxim

"Never let the odds keep you from doing what you know in your heart you were meant to do."

~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

"Do one thing every day that scares you."

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

"We must walk consciously only part way toward our goal and then leap in the dark to our success. "

~ Henry David Thoreau

"Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else's."

~ Billy Wilder

I know that is a lot to take in all at once, but each of these quotes reveal something very important about how our society views the experience of taking a chance. We are told that taking chances means we might potentially feel embarrassed, scared, and hurt. These great men and women explain to us that chance taking requires us to lay aside safety, wisdom, practicality, the impossible, and instead take an instinctive leap of faith.

To a certain extent, they may be right. It is almost impossible to take chances without the presence of the unknown. However, as an educator it concerns me that we are sending the message that taking an unknown path to new experiences has the potential to be painful, scary, and embarrassing. I also do not particularly care for the message that there is no room for analysis, experience, and calculation in taking a chance.

In my classroom, I want my children to see taking chances as an adventure. I want to eliminate fear and embarrassment so that trying new things is comfortable or even exciting. When approaching something new and different, I want them to rely on wisdom and practicality (both their own and that of others) instead of treating them like an impediment on the road to discovery.

Sometimes taking chances will be scary, and sometimes it will require a leap of faith, but I do not think it always has to. My question for all of you is how? How do I create an environment where my students feel safe, comfortable, and even eager taking chances? How do I ensure that trying new things and heading in new directions is a positive experience instead of a scary and overwhelming one? As always, I appreciate anything you have to contribute.

The Rose Not Taken

Today as I was walking to get dinner, I saw something so beautiful that I felt the need to share it. It was one of those perfect evenings that make people want to be outside. There was a slight breeze, but it was not so cold that you needed a jacket. The air had a quiet and enduring quality that made you feel like time would be suspended forever in that pleasant place between night and day when there is nothing to do but enjoy life, and nothing to feel but quiet happiness.

I was walking past a common area, and skipping around the circumference of the benches situated there was a very small, bouncy haired child and her two huge yellow labs. She ran about aimlessly until she happened upon a rose bush with beautiful pink blooms. Of course, in this situation she did what any adorable 3-year-old would and picked the petals from one of the blossoms. Her intent was to offer these soft, lovely drops of happiness to her two lumbering companions, but this pursuit was thwarted by the fact that her hairy four-legged friends would not even acknowledge the existence of the child's gift. Still, she persisted, following her dogs lovingly from place to place, trying innocently to get their attention and give them her thoughtful gift. In the end, she did not give up but instead said with a maternal note to her voice, "well I'll just leave them right her, and you can come get them when you are ready." She then placed the petals on the corner of one of the benches and continued to pursue new adventures and discoveries.

My description of this brief scene does not come close to doing it justice. The juxtaposition of the dogs huge bulky frames with her light and delicate features, and their animal indifference to her humanity and warmth were comical. Her persistence in trying to share something that she felt would make the creatures she loved happy was beautiful. She was never discouraged, and she had no doubt that at some point, her gift of simple beauty would get the appreciation it deserved.

I am not simply telling this story because it made me ache with happiness. This 20 second scene got me thinking about some deeper issues that have been on my mind constantly over the past month.

Who should get our most precious and beautiful gifts?

If that little girl had given that flower to her doting father who stood close by, or even to me as I passed, it would have brought a smile to a face and put a good deal of warmth in a heart. Instead, she tried to give it to two dogs who paid her no attention and did not appreciate the beauty in what she was attempting to do. Should we be like this little girl? Should we persist in trying to share our gifts with those who do not appreciate them for the beauty that they possess?

Or

Should we reserve the beautiful aspects of our lives and character; our talents, our knowledge, our love, for the people who will truly appreciate the gifts we have to give?

Let's say just for fun, that this little girl attempts to giver her dog a rose petal 100 times. The first 99 times, the dog ignores that gift completely and sometimes even nudges the girl's hand aside with his nose to get it out of his way. However, the hundredth time, he turns and smells the rose, and the smell of that sweet little petal changes his life and the way he sees the world forever. What if the girl had given up the 57th time she tried to give the dog the petal? What if she had decided that dog could never appreciate her gift and instead gave it to me? That dog would have never had the life changing experience of encountering one of life's simplest beauties.

How long do we push? How long to we fight? How long do we persist in trying to give people the beautiful gifts that we know they need but that they cannot or will not accept? What happens when they are finally ready to accept what someone else has to offer, and everyone has given up? What if they turn to smell the rose, and there is no open hand holding the petal?